


on my heart (just like a tattoo)

by devirnis



Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devirnis/pseuds/devirnis
Summary: "Miss Byrne would like to commemorate their long-running but non-marital relationship with a tattoo. Damon, however, is frightened of needles. Thus the impasse."
Relationships: Damon Baird/Samantha "Sam" Byrne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	on my heart (just like a tattoo)

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Tom Bissell, the writers, God and also Jesus for giving me this
> 
> (Yes, I did pull the title from a Jordin Parks song from 2007. Fight me.)

It's not hard for Baird to remember he has an anniversary coming up, what with the government blasting their plans for months to mark the end of the Locust War twenty-five years ago with a special ceremony. Normally Baird and Sam don't make a big deal out of their anniversary – Baird makes sure he's not working and books a table at a ridiculously expensive restaurant – but he gets the sneaking suspicion that this year, that might not cut it.

Twenty-five years is kind of a big deal.

Cole not so subtly slipped Baird a magazine page last month about anniversary gifts by the year. (Where Cole gets these things, Baird has no idea.) Apparently it's supposed to be something silver for twenty-five, but what the hell is Baird supposed to do with that? Sam doesn't really do jewelry and he doubts very much that she'd appreciate a silver wrench as a gift.

Actually, she might – but Baird can be more creative than that.

After a day of scanning through the DR-1 feeds, fuming that Jinn is going behind his back and giving his bots lethal weapons – and knowing there's no way to confront the First Minister without giving away his backdoor security feed access – Baird makes his way from the shed back to the house for dinner. He finds Sam at the dining room table, going over performance reports for the latest Tracker software patch while a few retired Shepherds fix a simple meal.

"Our anniversary is coming up," Sam says when he drops into the chair next to her, without taking her eyes off her datapad.

"I'm aware, thanks," Baird retorts. Just because he forgot it last year –

"Do you need any suggestions?" Sam asks, her tone teasing, and now she looks up at him. "I know neither of us are much for grand gestures, but I figure once in a while – like every quarter of a century –"

"I've got a few ideas," he says breezily, when he has, in fact, zero ideas.

"I was thinking..." she begins, and Baird recognizes that tone – the tone that means he's not going to like something, but he's going to end up giving in anyway. "Instead of our usual night out, why don't we do something a little more permanent?"

"Do you want me to get you a ring?" he asks, only half-joking. If she wants one, he'll do it – it's really more of a formality at this point than anything. The only reason they haven't tied the knot is because they both agreed a long time ago that they didn't need a signed piece of paper from the government to make it official.

She laughs. "No, no. When I say permanent – what do you think about matching tattoos?"

Baird's stomach drops at the same time he feels his blood freeze. "Tat–" he coughs, clears his throat. "Tattoos?"

Sam clearly picks up on the hesitation in his tone; it would be hard not to. "Is that not something you'd want to do, then?"

The obvious disappointment in her voice panics him. "What? No! I mean, uh, it's not like – I just never thought about – it's not something I, uh..." _God, shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Tattoos. Fuck. It's not like he's worried about permanently disfiguring his immaculate body or anything. Seventeen years of war left plenty of damage on his skin; a tattoo isn't going to ruin his self-image. It's just... to get a tattoo... Baird knows what's involved in that process.

Needles.

And, despite what he will admit to aloud, he is absolutely fucking terrified of needles.

It's such a stupid fear, which is why it bothers him so much. He hates being irrational, but the logical part of his brain just can't break through when a syringe comes out. He never had a traumatic experience or anything; he's just been scared of needles and injections since he was a kid. Government-mandated shots at school made him sick to his stomach with worry, and all those physicals and tests when he was in the army were almost worse than any firefight with the grubs. He's always kept it pretty under wraps though. No fainting, despite a few close calls. He just locks up and stays mute and waits for it to be over, and nurses always attributed his refusal to engage with their small talk as him just being an asshole.

It's never come up before with Sam. Since Baird left the army, he isn't subjected to frequent physicals any longer, and Sam's days of giving their friends casual tattoos are mostly behind her. She's never offered him one before – he's never asked, for obvious reasons.

"Can I think about it?" he finally manages to say. "I just, uh, wasn't expecting that."

"Sure," Sam gives him a small, half-smile. "Yeah, no problem."

The rest of dinner consists of painfully stilted conversation, both of them tiptoeing around their bruised feelings. He could tell her why he didn't agree immediately – he tries to, three or four times, but every time he tries to say the words, they stick in his throat. He's embarrassed, ashamed. Which is stupid, considering all the shit the two of them have been through together over the years. It's not a big deal. She wouldn't laugh at him or judge him – well, okay, she'd probably laugh at him, but not in a mocking way. In that gentle, soft way, when she finds whatever he's just said charmingly endearing.

He doesn't end up working up the guts to tell her that night. But that's okay; he'll tell her another time.

But then JD and his friends discover that the Locust are back – or worse, evolved into something even more dangerous called the Swarm – and suddenly there are more important things to think about than their anniversary.

* * *

They nearly die, which shouldn't really be a surprise at this point. The Swarm come knocking on New Ephyra's door once they get their new queen, and even the Hammer almost isn't enough to push them back. It takes JACK sacrificing himself as one last targeting beacon to put the Kraken in the ground – Baird's still not over it, but mourning his robot can come later. He's acutely aware of just how _close_ the Swarm got to Government House and everyone inside.

One person in particular, really.

Ever since Jinn discovered Baird's secret backdoor into the DeeBee feeds, he's basically been confined to working from his lab in Government House. No way was Jinn going to let him take home the Hammer's targeting network, and no way was Baird going to leave Sam at home halfway across New Ephyra, even with a veritable army of bots at the mansion. When Kait, Del, JD and Fahz had returned from their little adventure in Vasgar, Baird had dragged Sam with him to meet the kids at COG HQ. He'd figured something might go down, knowing their luck – and it turned out his instincts were right. Jinn going nuclear that they'd launched the Hammer's targeting beacons without her knowledge or approval had barely started to get past the opening act when the Swarm crashed the party.

If Kait and the others hadn't managed to hold off their friend with the tentacles that followed them home from Vasgar – well, Baird wasn't above jumping in a Raven, scooping the gang up, and getting the hell out of dodge to regroup.

Baird leans back in his chair after getting confirmation from Marcus that the Kraken's dead, the Swarm are retreating, and Cole survived his idiotic punching attack against the giant monster. On the other side of the workshop, he hears Sam muttering to herself as she organizes what little remains of the DeeBee units dispersed throughout the city. Part of his brain starts wondering what he's going to do about his bots now that the Swarm can hijack them, but he can think about that later. Right now there's adrenaline pulsing through his veins and he needs – _he needs –_

He jolts out of his chair and strides across the room. Sam hears his heavy footsteps coming and looks up from the datapad she's holding, turning to face him. She opens her mouth to say something but she doesn't get the words out before Baird hauls her in and crushes their lips together.

 _Is this how it's always going to be?_ he wonders distantly. _Always one frigging step away from death?_

Sam pulls away to catch her breath, and for a second Baird thinks she's going to poke fun at his eagerness. But her face is soft when she smiles at him, and yeah, she gets it. One more brush with death. One more lucky escape. How long is that luck going to keep lasting?

"Tattoo me," Baird says before he can second-guess himself.

Sam blinks at him. "What?"

"Did I stutter or something? You heard me."

" _Now_?"

"Well, not _right now_." Baird pauses. "Why, you don't have your tattoo stuff _here_?"

Sam grins. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it would be to replace that stuff? I packed it in my go-bag."

"We need to have a conversation about your priorities."

Planting a quick kiss on his lips, Sam slips out of his arms. "Hilarious," she tosses over her shoulder, as she heads to her duffle bag that's tucked under one of the tables in the lab.

At the prospect of an impending needle, Baird's pulse quickens. He's nervous, more about not knowing what it will feel like, but he's still amped up enough from firing the Hammer all over Ephyra that he's able to keep himself from running out of the room while Sam's back is turned. He wants to do this, he really does. Now he can finally get over the fear that's been holding him back with the endorphin rush from not dying.

"Baird?"

Sam's voice makes him jump. "Huh?"

"You look a little nervous. Are you sure about this? I don't want to do something you'll regret later."

Baird shakes his head. "I won't regret it. I'll just be a chickenshit again about the needle."

" _That's_ what's been putting you off?" She lets out a disbelieving laugh. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

His cheeks burn. "I was embarrassed. Shut up. Come on, tattoo, chop chop."

She laughs again. "Okay, well first of all, where do you want it?"

"Uh..." Right, he supposes this is something he should think about. Since it's going to be on his body forever and all. "I dunno, where's a good spot?"

"If you want to be able to cover it up, probably chest or upper arm. Although I don't think Jinn's going to fire you for having a tattoo if she hasn't kicked you to the curb already for all your mouthing off."

"It's my winning personality."

"Oh, of course."

"You want matching ones, right? Where would you put it?"

"Hmm." Sam regards him, as if she hasn't had this whole thing figured out for months. "Right here." She prods his ribs, just below his left pec. "The ribs can be kind of painful, but somehow I doubt we're doing anything intricate."

His heart stutters a bit at the concept of pain, but what was he expecting? A light tickle? He knows it's going to be a needle stabbing into his skin repeatedly; he just has to not think about that too much.

"Sure, sounds great," he says, aware that his voice sounds slightly strained.

"Grab a seat then and let's get to it."

As Sam starts getting her equipment set up on a table, Baird slips out of his lab coat and pulls his shirt over his head. His stomach has a bit more pudge on it than he'd like – not helped at all by the weeks and weeks of living off takeout and spending twelve to fifteen hours in front of his computers. Still, Sam has never seemed to mind, if the frequency of their lovemaking is anything to go by. He hangs his coat and shirt over the back of one of the chairs at Sam's table and sits down, doing his best to avoid looking at anything that looks like it could be a needle.

"So what are we doing?" Sam asks, all businesslike.

"I don't care." And really, he doesn't. It's Sam – she'll pick something meaningful. For him, it's more the gesture that matters than the actual design itself. "Whatever you want."

"What if I put 'Property of Samantha Byrne' above your dick?"

He glares at her. "You know I can read, right? I think I'd catch on. And I thought you were doing my ribs."

"Just teasing, sweet cheeks," she says, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

She uses the one of his disposable razors he keeps in the lab to shave away the hair in a small circle on his torso, and then cleans the skin. Baird can feel his body getting tenser and tenser by the second. He's got a vice-like grip on the arms of the chair.

_It's gonna be fine. It won't hurt that much. If it does, you can always stop. Come on, breathe._

Sam catches his gaze. "You ready?"

"Yeah." He nods firmly. "Let's do it."

She grins, and then he hears the buzz of the needle. If possible, he tenses even more and waits for it. And then he feels it on his skin and it's - not actually that bad? Don't get him wrong, it's not a _nice_ sensation, but it also isn't painful enough to make him immediately jump out of his seat. It feels like he has a sunburn and someone's scratching him with a particularly sharp fingernail. He relaxes slightly now that he knows what he's going to endure for however long it takes Sam to finish the tattoo.

"This isn't terrible," he says.

Sam smiles but doesn't look up. "Everyone has different pain tolerances. But if it was excruciating, do you think I'd have had so many people ask me to do them?"

"Ha, fair."

They lapse into silence after that, Sam concentrating on what she's doing, and Baird occasionally gritting his teeth against a particularly sharp drag of the needle. It's not a lengthy process; the whole thing is over and done with in less than half an hour, according to the clock on the wall. When the buzzing of the tattoo equipment stops, Baird is almost surprised it's already over.

"That's it?" he asks.

"That's it. Now I just need to cover it." Sam wipes away whatever the hell has leaked out of him during the process – Baird still hasn't looked yet – and then rubs on something cool and slimy. As she pulls a large bandage out of her bag, she looks up at him again. "Do you want to look at it before I wrap it up?"

Oh, right. He should probably get a look on what she's permanently etched onto his skin. He glances down and sees a small, geometric design: two triangles, one on top of the other, with the bottom one filled with black. Not something he ever would have thought up himself, but he doesn't hate it – he doesn't think he'll regret it in the morning either, even if the area does still itch and burn a bit.

"It's good," Baird says. "So when are you doing yours?"

"I already did," Sam answers, grinning sheepishly.

She pulls up her shirt, revealing a matching design on her own ribs. Except on her design, it's the top triangle that's black and the bottom one isn't filled in. There's a nice sort of symbolism to it, Baird supposes. Seen side by side, the designs would definitely complement each other.

"Thank you," Sam says, "for doing this. It means a lot."

"Anytime," Baird says, smiling. "Better start thinking of what you're going to subject me to for fifty years."

She returns his smile, but it's a little sad. And yeah, Baird knows that actually reaching their fiftieth anniversary might be a little optimistic. For one, they'd both be pushing ninety years old, and, oh yeah, there's the suped up Swarm do deal with first. But Baird's coming around to the power of positive thinking; twenty-five years with Sam will do that to a person.

"Let me get rid of this mess, and then we should figure out what the next step is," Sam says.

"Right." Jinn's probably losing it that he's taken his tac-com out. Honestly, he's surprised the First Minister hasn't stormed into his lab again and started barking orders.

Plus, he has to hear all about firing the rail gun into the Kraken's face from JD, Del, Kait, Fahz, Marcus and Carmine. The things those crazy kids get up to...

IRIS, who has stayed mercifully quiet up until now, decides to pipe up. "Congratulations on overcoming your phobia, Damon."

Baird pulls his shirt back on over his head. "Shut up, IRIS."

**Author's Note:**

> [These](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/82/48/96/824896b41913419b21ff582ca29cb784.jpg) are the tattoos that inspired me
> 
> I realize this execution is a little ridiculous, but I just wanted to write something fun that didn't involve Baird and Sam reacting to whichever character was killed at the end of Gears 5. That's for another fic.
> 
> For a person who really doesn't like needles, I have to deal with them a lot in my life. I'm predisposed to developing iron overload so I manage it by donating blood a couple times a year, my cat developed diabetes after I adopted her and requires insulin injections twice a day, AND I've willfully subjected myself to 2 tattoos. I feel you, Baird.


End file.
